


Present

by Feral_Fic_Writer



Series: The Key to a Happy Pack [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Body Modification, Brainwashing, Caning, Cock Warming, Dirty Talk, Kidnapping, M/M, Master/Pet, Non-Consensual Filming, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pissing Outdoors, Ramsay Bolton is His Own Warning, Rape/Non-con Elements, Recreational Drug Use, Situational Humiliation, Starvation, Stockholm Syndrome, Verbal Humiliation, bottle feeding, forced puppy play, inappropriate use of the word "daddy" once so far., loss of teeth-teeth breaking, mention of amputation, not ageplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:53:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28678452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feral_Fic_Writer/pseuds/Feral_Fic_Writer
Summary: A three chapter study of all the various "presents" Ramsay can give captive Theon.
Relationships: Ramsay Bolton/Damon Dance-for-Me, Ramsay Bolton/Damon Dance-for-Me/Theon Greyjoy, Ramsay Bolton/Theon Greyjoy, Ramsay Bolton/Theon Greyjoy/Reek
Series: The Key to a Happy Pack [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2099742
Comments: 24
Kudos: 37





	1. The First Present

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dreamcoat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamcoat/gifts).



> This is a gift to Dreamcoat for their kind review. I hope it pleases and thank you for welcoming my twisted tales with such enthusiasm.
> 
> If you're confused about the author name change, I posted this under a different penname I was using as a warm-up account but then decided I really wanted it to be under my Feral fics.
> 
> For those who follow Feral, I plan to return to my fics this year and resume writing. Those fics deleted from my account this fall will be edited, completed and republished.
> 
> Thank you for hanging with me as I sort myself out. The past couple years have not been easy (for most of us, I think.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theon has a nightmare. 
> 
> It doesn't end when he wakes.

The water was so cold and Theon trapped beneath the ice that capped it. Numb fingers scrabbled raw and bleeding against the frozen crust above him. 

Burning lungs about to burst, spots danced before his eyes and threatened blackness when finally he hit upon a small pocket. Floating on his back, his mouth suckled fish-like into the space between ice and water. The air trapped in his lungs surged forward in a roar, silent to submerged ears. 

One. Two. Three gulped breaths. Theon wanted to hang here until his chest stopped aching but he knew with the bubble’s size, already its oxygen must be all but depleted. Drawing a final deep breath he pushed away with heavy limbs. 

If suffocation didn’t finish him soon, hypothermia surely would. The crushing weight of imminent death upon him, he was about to surrender. Then he saw it. Light filtered into the green depths up ahead. 

Using the last of his… everything, he fought forward. His head surged out of the hole in the ice at last. Winter sunlight bit frozen skin. 

But his gasp for breath became a strangled cry when he saw Ramsay kneeling at the hole’s edge, waiting. 

Gloved hands seized his collar and hauled him out. 

“Caught you,” Ramsay laughed as he leaned in. He pressed their lips together, sucking the new air from Theon’s lungs and swallowing his screams. Drowned in this vicious kiss he lost consciousness.

* * *

Heart pounding Theon awoke with jolt into darkness. Triggered by his nightmare cries, his mittened hands flew to the shock collar around his blistered throat. Tears filled his eyes. He fought not to sob to avoid the sting of another shock. 

But it was so hard.

Every ache of his battered body had woken with him. His blackened eye pulsed fiercely in competition with the recently emptied sockets of two back teeth. But these were nothing compared to the throb of his right hand at the joints of missing fingers. Theon cradled this to his chest, the leather encasing it stiff with dried blood.

The soiled straw nest of his kennel box scratched his bare skin and did little to insulate from the barn’s chill. Theon shivered and wiggled, trying to find a more comfortable position. 

There was none. 

Three days crouched in a dog crate too small to turn around in had taught him this already.

His shifting only made things worse: every stiffened limb screamed for relief. Theon’s greasy head dipped lower.

An ever moving mark, he thought he’d reached his true limits two days ago. And yet, as long as his heart continued beating there was nothing he could do but endure. 

Silently he cried harder. _Please, please, please,_ he prayed again to whatever god might hear him. _Help me. I can’t bear this._

No god answered but the devil did. 

The barn door creaked and the lights came on. A cacophony of barks and whines filled the air as all the other kenneled hounds celebrated their masters' arrival. Trained by terror to hear his captors’ footfalls above the barking, Theon shrunk into his box. He hissed when his torn back met metal grating.

In front of him the kennel’s door swung open. Into the run his smaller prison was stashed in, two pairs of boots strode into view.

Theon didn’t dare look up.

“God he stinks.” 

Theon choked on a fresh sob. It was true. After seventy two abandoned hours he was rank with sweat and blood and sick, piss and excrement.

Next to Damon, Ramsay sighed. “Well that’s part of the lesson now, isn't it?”

Ramsay crouched down, knife in his belt’s scabbard and bamboo switch in his gloved hands. At the sight of these and his cold blue eyes, suddenly Theon was drowning again.

“What do you say, fuck pup? Want to come out of your box?”

Like all of Ramsay’s questions it was a trick.

“Quiet now? Before you wouldn’t stop yapping. Speak or I’ll leave you for another three days.”

Above them Damon laughed. “You forgot about the shock collar, Rams.”

“No." Ramsay’s eyes never left Theon. "I didn’t.” 

Damon chuckled harder. “You’re one hard master.”

“Umhmmm, that’s why you love me.”

Ramsay grinning through the bars reminded Theon of caged shark dives he’d done. Only now the sharks seemed far less dangerous.

“Come now, pup. I’m feeling generous today. If you’re ready to be good, I’m willing to give this another go. Damon here will clean you up. We’ll take you back up to the house where it’s warm. Put some grub in that tum. Give you a drink. All you have to do is behave.”

To be out of this hateful box, clean and warm, fed and watered… Theon couldn’t remember the last time he wanted something more. But the price. The cost of these things, of his obedience…

In the absence of words his aching stomach spoke up in his stead with an angry rumble.

“Yes. I know my naughty dog is hungry. Were well before you got put away too.”

Theon winced when Ramsay’s hands moved, but all he did was set his switch down and pull a bag from his coat pocket. Saliva wet Theon’s dehydrated mouth when the scent of spice broke through his stink.

“Tell me your name, hound. Your fuck pup name. The one, I, your master gave you. 

“Do this, your time out will end, and you’ll get a little present right now.

“Speak.”

Unable to look away from the jerky pinched between Ramsay’s fingers Theon Greyjoy, son of a mogul, board member of Winterfell Industries, award winning diver, and highly sought after bachelor wept at the realization his complete undoing would be manifest in a tiny scrap of meat.

“Come on.” Ramsay waved the tidbit in front of him. “Has your punishment made you dumb?”

“Please,” Theon whispered. Braced for the jolt to his throat his tortured limbs still twitched when it hit.

He whined in distress when the hand holding the treat dropped away. But it was only so the bolt to his cage could be slid back and the door opened.

“Not quite." Ramsay's eyes glittered in the barn's lights. "Here pup, I’ll help you, since it seems you may have forgotten it. Your new name rhymes with… 

“Speak.”

Tear-blurred vision made it seem like Theon was looking out, underwater. The way Ramsay knelt, glove outstretched, waiting, it was so like his recent dream deja vu dizzied him. 

It was prophetic Theon realized: he would be birthed from the gape of his cage into Ramsay’s arms just as he had the dream’s ice opening. Theon killed upon emergence and brought back as…

“Reek.” 

The name fell from scabbed lips and Reek was born. Not with a babe’s first warring cry but a broken whimper. 

“Good boy. That wasn't so hard now was it. All that fuss for nothing."

Gloved hands grabbed him and he was pulled from the box. Spice burst on his tongue as his reward was pushed into his gasping mouth. Just as in his nightmare, Ramsay’s flavor followed a moment later.


	2. The Second Present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reek regains his status as a house pet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you dreamy Dreamcoat!! (More Thramsay eye contact for you this chapter.)
> 
> And now the lovely User too!! (User, I have added a teeth tag just for you.)
> 
> Your amazing comments keep the authorial fires blazing. Or is that just the warmth of the corner of Hell I reside in?
> 
> There's some unexpected weirdness in this chapter. Ha!- As if the Thramsay/Damsay trio isn't peculiar enough with all its trappings. Hope this new twist doesn't squick you out. I say this with a a bit of a irony because... Well, after all... You're here to start with. Aren't you?

Outside the barn the gray sky seemed too bright. Theon closed his eyes against it. His head spun, dizzy, oddly seasick at the sway of Damon carrying him.

Nothing in his life had prepared him for the exhaustion he felt.

Or the pain. 

The ordeal of his post time-out “clean up” now found him thoroughly scrubbed inside and out. Prickling in the frigid outdoor air, his naked skin still stung from coarse bristles. Freed from his box, unfolded muscles ached. Bound in gauze instead of leather paws his hands throbbed mercilessly.

But what pulsed rawest was knowing, here, in this open-spaced limbo between the hell of the kennel and the hell of the house, caged now by nothing but but another man’s limbs, he wasn’t even going to attempt an escape.

Sure, he might reclaim a scrap of his tattered pride in the trying, but in the condition he was in it would be futile. And the punishment that would follow…

The punishment...

The arms holding him hitched. Theon winced how this jarred the thick tail plug he’d been stuffed with.

“Even though he’s skinnier, he’s still fucking heavy.”

“What are you saying, Damon? That maybe I should do a little more carving? Whittle away a bit more of that weight.” 

At Ramsay’s half-joked suggestion he and Damon both laughed. Theon shivered, miserable.

Just inside the farmhouse door the wonder of warmth only lasted a few seconds before Damon dropped him. Theon tumbled to the floor with a groan. Too weak to move he huddled where he fell, shaking, while his captors kicked out of muddy boots. 

None of Ramsay's Boys rushed out to meet them. Keeping his head down Theon peered down the hall into the front room. They must all still be locked in the kennel. Given the situation that earned him his “timeout,” he drew the tiniest bit of comfort from the fact the house was empty of other dogs.

For now.

His gut twisted wondering how long that would last. Then he caught himself: suffering future miseries was a waste of energy and there was more than enough to occupy him, right here, in the present. 

As if to affirm his thoughts, Ramsay’s bamboo switch caught his chin and lifted it. Looking up, Theon saw he had a camera in his other hand, filming his homecoming already.

“Happy to be back in the house, Reek?”

The firmness of the switch beneath his jaw prevented nodding, but the way Ramsay stared he clearly expected an answer. The shock collar had been replaced with his regular one but with every breath Theon still braced for its bite. Less than five minutes in the house, however, he didn’t dare try Ramsay’s patience.

“Yes, sir. Thank you.” 

Low and pitifully hoarse, he didn’t recognize his own voice. But it wasn’t really his anymore, was it?

The switch left his chin to gently tap his nose. Though he managed not to cringe away Theon couldn’t stop his pleading whine, too well-acquainted with the horrors of a well placed swing.

“Nice. But that’s not really how a dog shows it’s happy. Is it, Reek?”

Blood flooded Theon’s cheeks with his understanding. Despite his revulsion, the mere arch of Ramsay’s eyebrow got him moving. Lowering his elbows to the floor to spare his hands, he raised his bare ass and wiggled stiff hips. 

Shame hotter than the fire in the front room hearth burned in his belly as he wagged the black silicone tail protruding from his asshole. As it swayed back and forth the fat cone of it inside him rattled his rectum. His humiliation grew when his dick twitched and began to fill at the way it rubbed.

“Nice position,” Damon growled. “Looks like our little bitch is begging to be bred already.” His huge hand smacked Theon’s bruised ass and he jolted forward with a yelp.

“You want a cock in that cunt, fuckpup?” 

Theon hung his head. Behind a fringe of damp, overlong hair he sobbed. 

No. 

Next to losing another part, that was the very last thing he wanted. 

Against all better instincts, he scooted away from Damon’s leer closer to Ramsay. Sitting at his socked feet he pressed against his legs. Theon buried his face into the knee of Ramsay’s jeans.

Fingers tangled in his hair, not unkindly. The tenderness of the touch hit harder than Damon’s slap and he started crying.

“I know you’re eager, Damon, after all, it’s been three days. But you can play with Reek later. We just got him back. Let him settle in.”

Just by his tone Theon knew he’d pleased Ramsay somehow. A quick glance up proved him right: Ramsay stared down at him looking immensely smug. Theon dropped his head back down, his relief was so profound it made him cry harder.

When Ramsay stepped away heading toward the kitchen, the loss of his solidity left Theon immediately unmoored. With a ragged hiccup and no pride, he scuttled on all fours after him. Every tortured movement wiggled the silicone length of his tail in false-merriment. 

A happy puppy ambling eagerly after its owner.

Ramsay set the camera and his switch down on the counter, went to a cupboard, and then busied himself at the sink. Theon knew too well the price of getting underfoot so he retreated to his mat. 

Three days in a box left the kitchen too large. Thankfully, his “stay space” was tucked in a corner. Unable to easily sit with his tail, Theon laid on a ribby side. Curled up as small as he could make himself, the press of cabinets against his welted back comforted him.

Damon followed them in, pulled out a chair from the small table, and threw himself down in it with a growl. Theon tensed and tried to shrink smaller.

“What’s up your ass?” Ramsay asked where he stood at the sink.

Crossing his arms Damon frowned at him before turning his scowl on Theon. “It’s not what’s up my ass, it’s what should be up his! 

“And what the fuck? I’m the one that cleans up after him, and cleans him up! Maybe I whip him more, but I’m not the one cutting off his fingers! 

“Why does he like you better? ”

From his spot on the floor Theon peeked at Ramsay, wondering for a moment himself. Self-loathing immolated his heart when Ramsay caught his questioning expression and winked at him. 

“Awww… Damie, Don’t be jealous,” Ramsay turned back to Damon, teasing. “It’s only natural for a dog to bond harder with its first master.”

He stepped over to the table and set something down. Once he’d moved away again Theon saw what it was and his empty stomach dropped.

“Why don’t you give Reek a drink. I’m sure he’s thirsty.” Ramsay wiggled his eyebrows. “A little suckle might endear you to him more.”

Initially sour, when Damon saw Theon’s mortified expression he brightened. 

“Here, Reek.” He picked up the water-filled baby bottle and gave it a shake. “Come on.”

Theon whimpered. For three days, his only liquid had come from licking morning moisture from his box’s bars and the urine he caught in his mittens. But this? He whined again when Ramsay picked the camera back up and trained it on him. 

Every time he thought he could be no more degraded, this duo proved him wrong.

“Aren’t you thirsty, Reeky?” Ramsay cocked his head, eyes wide in faux curiosity.

“Go on.” He leaned back against the counter smirking as he filmed. “While you were gone, I realized how tired I was of the mess you made with your bowls. Reek is so sloppy. Filthy thing. I thought this would be cleaner.”

He’d been a man once but now reduced to this - He was Reek, filthy thing, fuck pet... He was also...

Dreadfully. Existentially. Thirsty.

Rising up on shaky limbs he slunk across the floor until he knelt at Damon’s feet, every inch forward another slow shattering. 

Ramsay liked eye contact, Damon didn’t. So Theon kept his head down when Damon thrust the bottle at him. As much as he wanted the water, he still paused at the pastel-pink nipple.

“Bottle shy?” Ramsay drawled behind him.

Damon waggled the bottle and huffed. “Seems to be.”

“You know, D, before he understood he was a bitch, Reek used to think himself quite the stud. 

“Didn’t you, Reek? I bet you had all kinds of moves. Why don’t you show Damon?”

Catching on to the game Damon chuckled. “Yeah, come on, Reek. Give that nipple a kiss. Show Rams and I how you used that mouth on other bitches’ tits.”

A sobering flash of his past arrogance made Theon hesitate. He had thought himself "accomplished", yes. But as Reek he was a miserable scorn-worthy creature no woman would ever entertain. It was on his lips to say as much. 

He heard the hiss of Ramsay’s switch too late. He screamed and jumped forward between Damon’s spread thighs as the cane cracked and split the tender flesh of his ass.

“Show him,” the timbre of Ramsay’s tone remained casual despite the violence he’d just dealt, ” _Reek._ ”

Damon adjusted his hold on the bottle. Hand grabbing a hold of overlong bangs he guided his head. Theon stuck out his tongue and flicked the tip of the nipple between sobs.

“Tsk.” Ramsay set the switch against the curve of his ass and held it there lightly tapping. “That’s a poor showing. Surely you can do better than that. Otherwise, what an unsatisfied string of ladies must have been left in your wake.”

A trickle of wetness rolled down Theon’s asscheeks where the cane had cut. Nerves still screeching from the blow, trembling, he went to work on the bottle’s tip, licking and giving it little nips and kisses.

“Mmmmm, that’s better, bitch.” Damon squirmed in his chair and settled. “Yeah, fuck, that’s hot.” He shot a glance at Ramsay and grinned before turning his attention back to Theon. “Dammmn, that’s it. Get after it. Suck that titty with your slutty mouth.”

Eyes closed, Theon did as he was told. He kept up the show even after the press of the switch lifted. 

When his latched mouth actually pulled the first draught of water from the rubber tip, he couldn’t quiet his grateful moan. 

“Look at him suckle. He loves it. Not so bottle shy now.”

It was true. Once the wet hit his tongue, Theon nursed so greedily he choked. Water dripped down his freshly shaved chin.

“Easy there.”

Theon managed to mind and was rewarded with a quiet minute of bottle bliss. Then his eyes flew open at the too familiar sound of unbuckling and a zipper being drawn down. 

“Don’t want you drinking so much so fast you get sick, Reek. Better switch off for a bit and show Damon your other suckling skills.”

Ramsay stood next to Damon now. Still shooting video, he’d set his switch aside to fish Damon’s hard cock from the slit of his shorts at his open fly. He leaned down and his teeth tugged Damon’s earlobe as he hissed. “I shouldn’t spoil you when you sulk, but…"

“Fuck, yeah!” Damon growled, pulling the teat from Theon’s wet mouth. 

Damon’s cock was huge, much bigger than Ramsay’s. It was cut too, but that didn’t necessarily make it cleaner. Waved under his nose,Theon’s throat hitched at the musk of it. 

One hand still in his hair, the other free of the bottle, Damon grabbed his jaw. Fingers pressed to bruises along its hinge brought fresh tears to Theon's eyes. Despite the ache, he opened his mouth and didn’t resist when Ramsay fed him Damon’s dick.

“Look at you, Reek. So obedient,” Ramsay crooned. “I think that little time out was good for you.”

“Ha. I don’t know about that but it’s sure as hell good for me,” Damon groaned, pulling Theon’s head down as his hips rutted up. Using his handholds, Damon slid his mouth back and forth on his cock. 

“That’s right, bitch, take that dick.” 

It was suffocating and for a fleeting moment Theon wondered if he shouldn’t have been more agreeable about his ass when Damon first expressed interest. The thought was driven quickly from his consciousness. Damon’s rough treatment thrusting him back into the present, Theon kept his gauze-wrapped hands on his knees and submitted to this brutal use. Choking on his length, he tried desperately to keep from vomiting the water he’d just drunk. 

Damon liked to rub the head of his dick against the soft inside of his cheek and watch it bulge. When he pulled back to do this Theon’s eyes teared at the stretch of bruised skin.

“I better not fucking feel any biting.” 

Ramrodded cock re-opened newly empty tooth sockets. Copper burst on Theon’s tongue. A reminder of what would happen if he did.

“A few less teeth and he’s gonna feel perfect,” Damon crowed.

Tiring of using Theon’s cheek as a pocket, Damon turned back to the deeper sleeve of his throat. He shoved his shaft in and pulled Theon down until his neck bulged and his nose was buried in the thick, dank briar of his pubes.

Adam’s apple spasming, the sound of his own gagging rang in his ears and Theon was struck by a moment of dark conviction at how many women he held on his cock over the years in just this same manner.

“God, I love that sound,” Ramsay purred above him, a ghost of his own past words. 

This as much as having his throat dick-punched sent Theon’s bile rising. 

Damon eased him off his cock just long enough to let him retch. Dick juice, drool, and stomach mucus dangled from his chin. Theon was too busy trying to catch his breath and grieving his lost water to be bothered by it.

“Look at me, Reek.” Teary-eyed and sniffling, Theon obeyed, seeking Ramsay's gaze above his other owner's bulk.

Damon dropped his jaw to take up his cock. He stroked it violently before hand-feeding it back between fuck-bruised lips.

Ramsay stood behind Damon now, filming down over his shoulder to capture that first person pov their viewers begged for. Damon’s flannel shirt was open, his stained tee-shirt rucked up over hairy, muscle-filled pecs.

From between Damon’s thick thighs Theon stared up. Ramsay stared down. Meanwhile Damon's eyes were closed, lost in the thrill of his mounting climax. Ramsay’s free hand scratched through the coarse fur covering his chest, fingers skillfully sliding back and forth to pinch fat, dark nipples.

But his gaze, mercurial, molten, never left Theon’s.

“You love having your nipples toyed with, eh, D? Maybe later on Reek can nurse you while you fuck him. Since he’s shown us what good use he can make of his mouth when it’s not being difficult.”

“Shit, Ramsay!” Damon gave a gutteral groan and pulled Theon’s face tight to the base of him as his hips shuddered.

Theon longed to shut his eyes against the pulse of thick, rank cum down his throat, but despite the butterfly-like flutterings of his wet lashes Ramsay’s gaze kept his own pinned open.

“Good boy, Reek.”

Theon hated the way these words still made his chest ache just a little bit less.

Damon pulled out of his mouth and Theon immediately turned his head away, coughing. He fought to keep the sour jizz in his stomach. Awful as it was, it was preferable to being forced to lick it up as vomit from the floor. Besides, he need to avoid any more severe punishments if he was to survive this.

At Ramsay’s next words he pushed away the question that immediately followed: whether or not survival was something he really even wanted anymore?

“What do you say, Reek, when daddy Damon gives you a treat?”

“Thank you, Sirs.” So freshly fucked his voice held even more gravel and truly sounded more animal than human.

Seeing the crease forming on Ramsay’s brow, Theon wiggled his caned ass a bit too to make his tail sway. The way Damon's thrusts had rocked him, the rub of the plug had made him hard. His humiliation burned brighter when a string of precum drooled from his cock at this new wagging, as if he liked having his mouth raped.

Of course Ramsay noticed.

“That’s right, messy bitch. There’s some hope for you yet, Reek.”

Ramsay shut off the camera, set it down, and patted Damon on a breathless shoulder.

“Feel better now? Not so cross?”

“Unhuh,” Damon replied, rendered non-verbal after his fuck.

“Good.” Ramsay pulled out the table’s other chair and plopped down. “You can get on fixing dinner once you’ve recovered.”

He picked up the baby bottle, still half full and held it out to Theon under the table. Theon hesitated only a second before taking the nipple gingerly between his lips. He had to make a quick adjustment when Ramsay let the bottle go, leaving it dangling down from his mouth, rubber teat pinched between his teeth.

“Go to your mat, Reek.” 

Dismissing him with a wave of a hand, Ramsay picked the camera back up and turned it on again to review the new footage. 

He should have been glad to be relieved of his “duties”. But strangely that wasn’t what Theon felt. What it was, he couldn’t describe, all he knew was that it scared him. 

“I said, mat! Make me repeat myself again and you’ll get the switch.”

Fighting not to cry again, Theon dragged himself back over to his corner and curled up with his water bottle and his still stinging bottom. Holding it between his wrapped hands, latched on and sucking, he tried to ignore how soothing the rubber teat felt against his tongue. He cast a timid glance over at Ramsay and was surprised to see he’d stopped looking at the footage and was filming him again.

Having regained Ramsay’s attention, Theon wished he could ignore the strange soothe in that too.

He closed his eyes and worried the nipple between aching teeth. Water chasing away Damon’s bitter leavings he quickly lost consciousness. Unaware, minutes later, Ramsay traveled across the kitchen to stand over him, still filming his sleepy suckling, watching him through the camera, a new expression on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Um... Fics sometimes get away from one and this chapter did this just that. I'd no intention of a bottle featuring anywhere in this story originally. Only with Reek so recently/truly born, and it being such a degrading implement, once the image caught a foothold (it only took a flash), it really couldn't be shook.
> 
> And if the bottle bit distressed you, it's not going to show up in the final chapter. There will be plenty of other disturbing stuff, however. And if that is among your kinks, you liked it, and want a ficlet focusing more on that specifically, a thoughtful comment might receive one.
> 
> All this said, hopefully there was something in this new chapter to tickle your twisted fancies.
> 
> Thank you for reading.


	3. The Third Present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theon gets some news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my inspirational reader/commenters Dreamcoat and User24601. And the lovely P_totel, who just joined us in this puppy purgatory! 
> 
> Gratitude to Harreckk, BlueNotes, FlyingSheep, and Orokana_Kitsyne for your kudos. As well as all you other thoughtful, anonymous readers.

The worn braided rug was kind on his knees, the room warm. Lulled by this, despite the bright throb of his caned ass and the duller pulse of all his other aches, Theon’s eyelids grew heavy. 

Sheltered beneath the kitchen table, Ramsay’s cock held soft in his mouth, his thoughts began to drift.

His belly burned with the humiliation of his position as Ramsay's cock warmer but it it didn't take much energy to do, and despite his earlier sleep he was still so tired. Tired enough his eyes fell shut and he began to nod off.

Fortunately, he caught himself just before he fully fell into a doze and risked letting Ramsay’s dick slip from between his lips. 

Above, over the tabletop, his captors’ conversation rumbled. Soothing white noise compared to the barn’s chaotic kennel clamor between the clink of cutlery Damon and Ramsay bantered, discussing chores and kennel schedules. In the background lower voices chattered on the small TV sitting atop a kitchen counter.

At a tap to his nose Theon’s sleepy eyes popped open. Stiff-jawed, he slid off Ramsay’s cock to suck a bite of buttered potato from greasy fingers. As soon he licked these clean he quickly took Ramsay’s dick up again until the next tap came with its tidbit. 

This time a cube of chicken, Theon tried not to think too hard about the precision of its cuts. He swallowed it down without chewing to save his teeth. 

For the first time in a week his stomach was comfortably full. Though shrunk as it was, it hadn’t taken much to fill it. His bladder on the other hand… Four water-filled bottles later, now it was suddenly making itself known. And the press of his internal tail against it didn't help any.

Theon shifted against his increasing fullness. Muscular thighs clamped around his head in response. At this silent warning he froze, knowing there wouldn’t be another. 

His earlier drowsiness driven out by the brewing war between discomfort and obedience, before dinner was over the need to piss was so acute the stillness Ramsay cherished while having his cock warmed was all but impossible to maintain. Theon was one barely contained wiggle when, at last, a hand found his forehead and pushed him backward, signaling his dismissal. 

Before Ramsay had even tucked his spit-covered dick away Theon crawled out from under the table over to the door that led from the kitchen to the farmhouse’s side-porch. He softly whined his urgency

“Your dog needs out,” Damon muttered, rising. “And it’s your turn for dishes.”

“Oh? Now he’s _my dog_?” Ramsay chuckled.

He leaned back in his chair leisurely picking his teeth, clearly in no hurry to move. “Feel like some Reek for dessert?” 

“Yup.” Damon scratched his stomach, burped, and stretched. “After dinner’s settled a bit.” 

Ramsay’s eyes found Theon’s who cringed beneath his hungry stare. 

“Not sure if I’m going to wait or not.” 

At these words all the little nibbles he’d been fed turned leaden in Theon’s belly.

“Suit yourself.” Damon belched lightly again and looked at the old wall clock. 

“You know I don’t fancy fucking on a full gut. I’m gonna go catch the second half of the game on the big screen.” 

He went to the fridge, pulled out a fresh beer, and headed into the front room.

“Enjoy the rest of that PBS crap.” He gestured at the little TV.

“Peasant!” Ramsay shouted in mock horror.

“Yeah, and proud of it.” Damon laughed on his way into the hall, “Come join me, your highness, when your dishes are done and you’re ready to watch the titans battle.”

Once left alone with Theon in the kitchen Ramsay still made no move to rise. 

Unable to pinch his dick with his wrapped fingers, what was left of them, Theon pressed his hands to his groin. No matter how it unfolded, if he made a mess he’d be the one held to fault for it. 

“Please, sir?”

As though he hadn’t heard the plea Ramsay merely continued to stare at him silent and unblinkingly cat-like until Theon dropped his head. To keep his mind off the ache of his bladder his eyes traced the floor’s hardwood grain. Unhelpfully, it kept reminding him of water patterns.

After what seemed like infinite minutes later, he finally heard the scrape of Ramsay’s chair. Theon wanted to sob in relief.

His throat hitched in grief instead, however, when Ramsay stood and began methodically piling up dinner dishes. 

Driven by desperation he crouched. Tail wiggling, he scratched gauze-pawed at the door and whined again, dog-like as possible and unceasing, until Ramsay heaved an annoyed sigh, picked his switch up off the counter, and headed toward him. 

Theon cowered from the anticipated blows when he drew up. Instead, Ramsay huffed a “FINE!” and pulled the retractable leash from its doorside hook on the wall. So grateful for this small mercy, Theon tried to press the panted licks Ramsay liked to his wrist as the leash was fastened. 

Two months ago, outside the sanctuary of a scene, such an action would have been unimaginable. Equally unthinkable was the ease with which he accepted the leash and eagerly scrabbled out the door on all fours and off the porch onto the frosting grass to piss. 

Tonight, however, he barely gave a thought to either.

He hurried. But with his bladder near bursting, the shock of cold on naked skin and the press of the plug in his aching ass was too much. He lost control, urine surging mid-crawl. Not even halfway out the length of his tether, he had to stop and squat, penis jerking as it jetted.

Still on the porch Ramsay leaned against a post. He tucked the switch under his arm, dropped the leash handle, and set his socked foot on it so he had both hands free. He pulled a joint from his front shirt pocket, a lighter from his jeans, and lit up. 

The smell caught Theon’s nose. He peered back through the steam of his piss at Ramsay, backlit by porchlight, smoking as he watched him. Casually masculine in his pose, oddly regal, at the contrast of their two positions fresh humiliation smoldered in Theon’s chest. Maybe it was the brighter oxygen of the outside air but amid the tear-damp kindling of his heart little flames of jealousy and rage caught too. 

It seemed to Theon that Ramsay sensed this, as his next words were quick to smother them.

“Nice night,” he drawled, gazing up past the porch’s glow into the black expanse of the cloudy night sky with its smattering of stars. He drew on the joint and held it. 

“Man, I love living out here in the country. King of my own castle,” Ramsay said on his exhale. “All this privacy. No one around for miles and miles. Let’s a man handle his business without any interference.” 

If Theon’s tail had been real it would have curled under at this reminder. He spent the rest of his piss staring off into the dark endless acres of fields and forest surrounding Dreadfort Farms. Too physically broken to run, having been hunted and humbled after his last escape attempt, his only remaining hope now was that the Starks or his father were still looking for him. 

_They must be. I’ve barely been missing for two months._

Unfortunately any surety of this quickly slipped away into the shadows almost as soon as he thought it. A shiver shook him that had nothing to do with the autumn chill.

The tug on his collar pulled him back from his mind’s dangerous ramble. 

“Reek, stop dawdling. Shake your dick and get back here. I’m freezing my balls off.”

Ramsay had pinched out his joint and picked up the leash again. He gave another jerk. Theon coughed at the choke and stumbled back to him on numb limbs. 

Once inside the kitchen again, Ramsay unclipped him and Theon took up his “stay place” sinkside when his mat was moved there. Dishes carried to the counter, sink filled, Ramsay looked about ready to attack the washing. Instead...

“Present, Reek!”

Over the course of the afternoon three fresh cane cuts had been added to his ass at intervals for not responding quickly enough to this same order. Theon understood, of course, why Ramsay was being so fierce with his repetition. After all, it was his balking at this command and the “duties” accompanying it that just lost him a finger and earned him his most recent barn/box stay in the first place. 

Barely settled on his side when the call came, Theon's limbs tangled in his hurry to rise but he managed to right himself and assume the proper pose. Such a degrading position, and vulnerable, all his tenderest bits on display: chest pressed to the floor, ass angled up, thighs splayed. 

“Better,” Ramsay grunted, sounding almost disappointed. He added with a nudge of his toe to Theon’s soft cock, “Stay.” 

Body aching, Theon complied until Ramsay, nearly done with the dishes, picked up a plate and held it out. 

“Want a treat, Reek?”

Though posed as a question there was no real choice in it. Theon made his tail wag. But, of course, this time Ramsay wanted to hear his voice.

“Speak, Reek.

“Want a treat?”

Theon didn’t want it, or any of Ramsay’s “treats” for that matter. But that wasn’t the right answer.

“Yessir.”

“Look at me.”

Theon lifted his head. Heat and chill flooded him simultaneously when he met Ramsay’s gaze.

“Ask for it nicely.”

Ramsay’s gleeful grin was terrifying. He waggled the plate. Theon swallowed down the risen bile searing his throat at being made to beg for a dirty dish. His whole body burned with shame.

“Please, sir.” So ingrained the petition came by rote now.

Ramsay's brow arched, unconvinced. "You want it?"

Theon tried to sound more earnest. "Yes, sir. Please."

“Okay. Go on then.”

Theon pushed up, shuffled closer, and went to work, licking at congealed gravy. Ramsay supervised, silent until the dish was almost clean.

“I love watching that sweet tongue work.” Ramsay opened his jeans with his free hand, still damp from dishwater. “Never fails to make me hard.” 

Commando beneath, he pulled his rigid dick out and stroked.

“Remember back when you were too prissy to lick a plate, Reek?”

Tongue stuttering mid lap, tears filled Theon’s eyes. New heat rushed into his cheeks.

“Stay.”

Theon froze, tongue still stuck out between grease-coated lips. Ramsay pulled the plate away and replaced it with the head of his dick. 

“There’s a lot of dirty things you’ve learned to lick since, huh, fuckpup?” 

Fingers wound into Theon’s bangs, holding him in place.

“Open that once proud mouth up for me.”

The slap of cock against the flat of his tongue let Theon know he’d hesitated too long. It took every ounce of will he had to make his jaw relax. Ramsay didn’t fuck his mouth though, content to keep stroking himself, tickling the underside of his cockhead with his tongue while the tip of it brushed kiss-like against his lips.

A leaker, Ramsay’s excitement seeped in and pooled down at the back of Theon’s throat. 

Eventually Ramsay stopped his rubbing and rested the plump head of his dick on Theon’s bottom lip. Where Damon was vicious with dirty talk in his violations, Ramsay cut with silence and curt orders.

“Show me and then swallow.”

Fingers tightened in Theon’s hair to underscore the command. Tears streaming, he unhinged his jaw as wide as it would go, displaying the contents of his broken and missing-toothed maw. At Ramsay’s approving nod he swallowed the mix of gravy, spit and early spendings.

Lightly choking Theon’s head fell forward as soon as it was released. “Good boy” was accompanied by a tickle of fingers through the fine hairs on the back of his neck. Theon closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that he’d pleased.

That was his big mistake: Ramsay was never pleased.

The same fingers that had just petted him so tenderly suddenly gripped his collar and heaved. The roughness of the jerk stole his air and split open the shock-collar's blisters on his neck. Another hand caught him under an arm, and hauled him onto his feet. 

“Up!”

Theon cried out. It had been three weeks since he’d stood upright. His calves and thighs screamed at the unexpected stretch. Worse yet was the tear of the tight, cane scars on the soles of his feet under the burden of his own weight.

His arms flailed, bandaged hands seeking purchase along slick countertop as his hips were slammed against the edge of the sink.

“Present!”

Theon cried in confusion and tried to drop down to his knees again, only to find himself pinned by a forceful forearm across his low back. He screeched at the blistering spank that fell on his bottom’s newest welts.

“Hey! Can you keep it down in there! I can’t fucking hear the announcers!” From the front room, the volume of the TV increased. There was an approving roar from the crowd.

“Please,” Theon begged. Wanting to obey but unable to figure out what that meant.

“Silly fuckpup.” 

Ramsay pressed up behind him, using his weight to keep him in place while he forced a wet dishrag into his gasping mouth. Theon gagged on the cloth, empty tooth sockets stung by lingering soap.

“On two feet or four, ‘present’ is the same posture.” 

Sobbing Theon shut his eyes and allowed Ramsay to arrange him as he wanted. 

“Chest down!”

The counter’s edge bit into his pecs as a hand pressed between his shoulder blades and his hips were yanked backwards.

“Ass out!” 

Theon’s thighs trembled with exertion. 

“Make sure to put that cunt on display.”

When Ramsay kicked his ankles to spread his legs wider apart Theon’s knees almost buckled. He screamed into his dishrag gag when a rough hand grabbed the tail plug and shoved up, keeping him on his feet.

Theon reached back instinctively to bat at the punch only to have his bandaged hands knocked away. Blood bloomed on the gauze where his right hand was struck. Forehead pressed to cool formica, he sobbed. Right arm pulled under his chest to protect his wounded hand, his left arm cradled the back of his head. 

“Please...” He begged for mercy, knowing already there would be none.

Ramsay gripped his collar and used it like a handle while his other hand kept hold on the base of his tail, pushing and pulling the plug. Theon tried to stifle his wails at the way his guts clung to it as it was rocked. The fuck of it against his already bruised prostate was too much to bear.

“Come on. Give it up, Reek.”  
  
Finally the taxed muscles of his rim relented, his pink pucker turned almost white with the stress of the stretch. His ass coughed up the fat black cone with a wet shucking sound. 

“Mmmmm… Look at that open tailhole just begging for a stud.”

Theon swore he could feel the kitchen air wicking into the void where his tail had been. But not for long. Ramsay tossed the plug into the sink. It had barely thunked against basin’s bottom before he shoved his cock roughly into Theon’s raw, twitching gape.

After hours of holding the plug, Ramsay’s cock was almost a relief at first - not nearly as thick and softer, despite its fleshy firmness. But this only lasted until he started fucking.

There was no slow slide, no warm up. It was instant.

Animal.

Ferocious. 

Theon tumbled into a strange submissive brain space that sometimes gripped him. Despite the rabbit-fucked cock punches into his guts and the hard slap of Ramsay’s hips to his lash-crossed ass he stopped wailing and fell mostly silent but for heavy-breathed snorts and low pained grunts. Drool dripped from his semi-hard cock disregarding how much his insides ached.

“Good boy, Reek.” Ramsay growled once but otherwise he said nothing. Just kept fucking.

Legs gone to rubber, it was only the hand on his collar and the cock spearing into him that kept Theon upright. 

Their quiet was broken by Damon calling from the front room, “Holy shit, Rams! Change to channel eleven!”

“I’m busy!”

“Not too busy for this. Trust me!”

“Fuck.” 

Strong arms shifted and gripped. Ramsay’s cock never leaving him, Theon was dragged like a doll from where he stood and bent over a new section of counter. Ramsay stilled with him impaled on his dick. One hand on a finger-marked hip, the other picked up the small tv’s remote.

“Holy shit is right.”

Ramsay turned up the volume, quickly dropped the control, and grabbed for his video camera again. Left an arms’ reach away, he slid it down the counter and aimed it so the screen showed him and Theon both on the display screen. Ramsay hit record.

“Look at the TV, Reek.” His fingers snarled in the hair at the base of Theon’s skull and rattled it.

Blinking through his tears. It took a moment for Theon’s eyes to focus. More than a few more to understand what he saw.

_In regional news... Today a funeral was held for Theon Greyjoy. Estranged son of iron magnate, Balon Greyjoy, president of Kraken Tech, seen here on the left, walking with Eddard and Robb Stark, President and Vice President of Winterfell Industries._

Frozen at the sight of his father and the Starks, black-clad and somber, walking in the rain, Theon was so stunned he didn’t register the stilled dick stuffed in his ass. He had no consciousness either of Ramsay opening a drawer to extract a pair of handcuffs. He didn’t even feel the manipulation of his limbs as they were pulled behind his back or the click of steel around his scarred, gauze wrapped wrists.

“Oh, Reek… That face… Your expression is priceless. I’m so glad I’m going to have a record of this moment.”

_Grejoy’s son Theon, a member of the board of Winterfell Industries, disappeared almost two months ago. His vehicle was discovered abandoned in a remote area along the shores of Direwolf Lake a week after he was reported missing._

There was a sound… it started low and got louder. And louder. Soon it was so loud Theon could barely hear what the newscaster was saying. It wasn’t until Ramsay plucked the dishrag from his mouth that Theon realized he was the sound’s origin.

_An accomplished diver, it was initially thought Grejoy ran into some complications on a freshwater dive as some of his gear was determined missing. Later it was revealed he was under investigation and facing potential litgation in connection with a construction site mishap that resulted in the death of two young Winterfell interns._

Theon howled, the sound was animal and broken. He bucked backwards only to discover the cuffs and that Ramsay was ready for him. He thrashed wildly trying to get away.

“That’s right, Reek. Let it out. I want to hear you.”

“You doing okay in there, Rams?” Damon’s voice called at the commotion. “Need some help?” 

Ramsay had one hand in Theon’s hair, the other grasped the handcuff’s chain between bound wrists. Theon bellowed as his arms were painfully wrenched.

“No! I’ve got it! We’re just sharing this special moment! If I need you, I’ll holler.”

Theon’s shouting quieted when Ramsay threw his weight on top of him, driving the air from his lungs and pinning him to the counter. As soon as his breath returned his hoarse sounds were a hybrid of roar and sob as Ramsay began fucking him again as the news’ update continued to play. Only this time Ramsay was unhurried. Pumping in long, slow strokes. Pulling almost all the way out and then shoving all the way back in.

Unlike two minutes prior, now Theon felt everything. Ramsay's bludgeoning invasion, the smack of fat balls against his flesh, the flop of his own shrunken cock, the relentless pressure/pleasure/pain of stuffed full and rubbed.

_Earlier this month authorities ruled Greyjoy’s disappearance suicide by drowning. Robb Stark suggested in earlier interviews Theon Greyjoy was distraught about the interns’ deaths and subsequent investigation. Police reports offered as additional evidence, Greyjoy’s withdrawal from all social media platforms around the estimated time of his disappearance and a cryptic note discovered in his vehicle._

Theon wept. He remembered his morose scribblings on a scrap of paper. But the other.

“Do you have any idea how long that took?” Ramsay hissed in his ear, supplying an answer. His teeth caught and tugged Theon’s earlobe. “Your first day here I was up for 24 hours straight, setting all that right.”

“Nooo!” Theon didn’t want to believe it.

_Greyjoy’s personal laptop and his phone were eventually recovered from the bottom of Direwolf lake. Two weeks after this discovery Balon Greyjoy called off the underwater searches undertaken in the hopes of locating his son’s body. Robb Stark personally bankrolled an additional week of searches but no body was ever recovered._

“Scrubbed clean enough, so don’t get your hopes up.” Ramsay gloated, panting as he continued to pound into him. “Darkweb skills. You don’t run the kind of video service I do without picking up some tricks.”

Theon’s mind swum, caught in the undertow of his emotions as his father and second family disappear on the screen. Ramsay laid heavier atop him, suffocating him. His neck wrenched, Ramsay surged forward and caught his screaming mouth in a feral kiss.

The day’s earlier dream returned to Theon’s mind. Only hours old it felt like a memory from another eon.

Under the attack of Ramsay’s lips and tongue Theon’s voice surrendered and he fell silent.

“Good boy, Reek. Good boy,” Ramsay chanted the praise in pulse with his thrusts.

Breaking their kiss he turned Theon’s head again confronting him with the vision of them both, reflected in the video camera’s viewfinder. “Look, Reek. Look at us.”

Theon didn’t want to but he did. It was a cheery snapshot of hell: the flash of the kitchen’s sunshine-yellow paint behind the visage of himself, wrecked from crying, gaunt, pale, wild-eyed, and bruised and Ramsay rocking, sweaty atop him, rabid eyes glinting, face twisting with the rise of his cum.

“Yes, good boy. You know what this news means, Reek?” Ramsay stared into Theon’s soul through the screen. “Theon’s dead for real. And you, fuck pup, are mine. Ours. Part of the pack forever. 

“As long as you last, Reek…” The thrusts of the cock inside Theon stuttered. “No one’s going to try and take you away from me now.”

There were no words to describe Theon’s hopelessness, realizing the truth of Ramsay’s words, or his horror, knowing it was the sight of his expression in this moment of epiphany that tipped Ramsay over the edge. 

Ramsay’s face contorted into something animal in his release and the pleasured growling grunts he huffed against Theon’s collared neck as he emptied his cock into him were just as bestial.

When Ramsay collapsed on top of him Theon finally managed to close his eyes. Silent sobs wracked his battered body.

Crushed.

Breathless.

Trapped beneath this Bolton avalanche it seemed forever before Ramsay softened and slipped out of him.

Warm cum dripped sticky from his asshole and tickled his taint as it leaked out.

Broken.

As soon as Ramsay’s weight lifted, Theon fell boneless to the floor. Above him, Ramsay tucked his spent cock away, pulled out his unfinished joint, and lit up again.

Drawn by the new quiet Damon popped into the kitchen. “How was desert?” 

“Rich,” Ramsay exhaled with an expert smoke ring. “I’ll bring you a slice, if you want, after I put the dishes away.”

“Mmmmm. Sounds good.” Damon moved over and sucked the new smoke from Ramsay’s lungs with a kiss. Looking at Theon collapsed in a heap at their feet his brow rose. 

“See you brought out the handcuffs.”

“Well, Reek got a little excited by the news.”

“So, I heard. That was something, huh?”

Ramsay took another pull and passed the joint over. “Got it on video. It was the most beautiful fucking thing. Don’t think I’ve ever come so hard. We can watch it together later.” 

“Sounds good. Right now, I’ll be happy with another beer though,” Damon grinned through the smoke. He gave a gripping smack to Ramsay’s ass before heading to the fridge.

Given the depth of the hole Theon had fallen into the conversation above him sounded stories away.

This illusion shattered with a slap of silicone to his flank and Ramsay’s voice, clear and far too close for comfort.

“Let’s get that messy cunt stoppered back up so you stay nice and stretched for your next service, fuck pup.”

A hand caught the chain of cuffed wrists and pulled.

“Come on now, Reek. 

“Present.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So....
> 
> This was supposed to be a 3 chapter fic but... 
> 
> This chapter ran away from me. 
> 
> It could reasonably end here. 
> 
> However, I really had planned for Ramsay and Damon to fuck Theon/Reek together. 
> 
> *shakes fist* "Ramsay, you selfish bastard! Hogging puppy Theon!"
> 
> Anyone object to one more chapter? 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.


End file.
